Logs:Well Matched
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| RL Date: 28 December, 2015 |
| Who: Alida, T'gar |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Rider and weyrling trade observations while their dragons eat. |
| Where: HRW: Feeding Grounds |
| When: Day 3, Month 9, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Cloudy, cool. |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions |
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| It's nearing to nighttime that finds some weyrlings and their dragons on the feeding grounds. Among them is none other than T'gar, standing apart from the weyrling lot as he watches all the various dragons chasing in the pens with an air of detachment. It's hard to pinpoint which dragon was which with the failing light. Autumn comes all too early to High Reaches, and Alida's one of various Weyrfolk who've fled the clouds and shortening daylight for more hospitable shores... Ista's, to be exact. Still, even after a long afternoon splayed out on a beach, swimming, and having a few drinks...home calls to both human and dragon. 'Reaches is like that, damnit: getting under your skin and sticking close within...perhaps like a tumor on the heart. Ilicaeth has a *need*, you see, and it can only be fulfilled at home...sort-of. The blue's hankering for the tastiest herdbeasts Pern can offer, and *those* come only from 'Reaches, so the bluepair is arriving not long after those weyrlings are chasing down their own chow...Ilicaeth swooping down to a crisp landing not far from the pens to get Alida off his literal neck. While the adult blue awaits his turn with red-whirling eyes and impatiently-flicking tailtips, his human merely saunters her way over towards the fence... ultimately settling not too close to anyone else, though T'gar winds up being not far off, anyway. If you call 12 feet away close. T'gar watches the dragons from the pens, and so when the bluepair arrives, he notices them, too. With one dragon waiting for the predator herd to thin, the weyrling remains silent once Alida makes her arrival. She's not too close to him so all she gets from him is a brief nod of his head in acknowledgement as she passes. Those coppery claws of Ilicaeth's flex-flex-flex into the ground now and again while he's flicking his tail as well, the sound of the blue's impatience heard in the scrape-screeching rasp of talons on stone, though he's otherwise silent. It's while Alida's rather 'companionably' nodding back to T'gar that one of her lifemate's talon scrapes upon stone jangles the woman's nerves enough to make her teeth ache, and inspire an irritated, "Just get the fuck *on* with it, already..." to the dragon. Not that Rat is eavasdropping or anything like that, but when he focuses on the blue impatiently waiting - and hearing what he does from Alida, "He could go on and hunt," he states as an aside, his blue gaze on the pens. "He doesn't need to wait." There's a bit of leftover irritation in Alida's regard as her greens flick over to T'gar when he speaks up, but she only winds up jerking her chin to Ilicaeth, and giving the blue a look that silently states, 'See; even *he* thinks so.' If her dragon had more emotive facial muscles, he'd likely be sneering a little at his rider, right now. But, instead, he works his left forepaw as deftly as possible, the middle digit flexed out while the others curl up some: 'oh, fuck you, Alida...' before the blue tosses himself skyward for height, making the air stutter around the humans at pen-side. "Yer momma..." the blonde mutters fatalistically, then leveling her regard back onto T'gar for a long moment. Happy, now? "Do you always fight with your dragon?" Rat idly asks, watching the exchange between them. "He always defies you? Which is interesting, watching you curse him out." There's a slight grin on his face as he looks her way now, as a dragon in the background makes a gruesome dive for a wounded herdbeast. The look in Alida's eyes shifts when T'gar speaks again, altering from snark to faint irritation again, and then into a cool sort of bemusement. "Nope." Beat. "Nope." A look up and out to where Ilicaeth is now scoping out the herd beneath him soon has the woman murmuring (indirectly) to the weyrling, "Are you one uv' 'em that believes mixing two minds ta'gether's always some kind uv' comfy little featherbed?" Smirk. "Nope," Rat imitates Alida in borrowing her words. "Are you one of those that get irritated over every little thing someone says?" is his question, the weyrling's amusement growing as he looks from Alida towards the diving dragons in the pens. Long-lashed, green eyes blink once at T'gar's riposte, Alida managing to look, yes, irritated for just a moment before dark humor gets the better of her, and has her replying, "Nope," yet again. Snert. Up in the air, Ilicaeth's picking out his quarry, and sparing only a moment or two to allow one of the 'kids' nearby his own dive for prey before executing his own, as well. "Gotcher' own weyrs now." That's obvious. Not so obvious is, "What's *yers* like?" Beat. "Yer *dragon*." Smirk. "I'm finding that hard to believe," Rat answers that 'nope' with a slight smirk of his own. He nods on them getting weyrs, not answering verbally. What he does answer to, though, is the last. He looks to the pens as he says, "He's a pain in the ass. By a double. But I've been called the same before, too, so....we might as well stick together, us pains. What's yers like?" Time mellows..." is all Alida has to answer T'gar with, her words a strange, laconic mix of vaguely regretful and darkly sarcastic at once. Funny; she doesn't look more than in her late twenty-somethings...except for those cool, cautious eyes that now observe the big, burly weyrling. At some point in their odd little conversation, Ilicaeth stoops on his chosen, and manages to impale the big herdbeast with two foreclaws on his right side. It makes the landing a little rough, but the bull bears the brunt of it with a sudden, sickly CRUNCH of its shattered back under the blue's feet as they all meet the ground. Alida's not even fazed by the little scene beyond them, the woman merely grunting once, then returning her gaze to T'gar. "They're *all* a pain in the ass at some time. Some more often 'n others." Nose-wrinkle, snerk. "Congratulations." On being picked by a total pain in the ass, as opposed to her own dragon, who's that way only on-and-off? "Well matched, then." Or something. As for *hers* - who's now in the process of lurching up from his rough landing to start disembowling his much-wanted meal - the blonde comments casually, "Excellent partner. Smart-ass." As Ilicaeth's flipping off of his own rider might attest to. "Well-matched or destined for tragedy," is Rat's comment on his and Asaroth's bond. He doesn't look worried about it, really. "It's getting better though. I doubt that ones like Evyth and Aidavanth are pains." Shaking his head to that. Alida's last earns a snicker from him and a, "The very best. Needles. Answer me this, though," he adds, turning more towards her. "Being a full rider and all. Do you get more free time than we weyrling's do? Does it depend on the wings?" "Make yer own destiny..." Alida comments rather flippantly to Rat's own riposte, the woman again shifting her gaze to Ilicaeth, and quieting for a few moments as she takes in his primal feeding with slightly glittering eyes. At some point, the woman chimes back in with, "Even the nicest, most pliant ones c'n be pains, now an' again. *Nothin's* ever smooth 100 percent uv' the time." Period. Ever. Needles, though... indeed. Smirk. After some moments for cogitation, the full rider comments bluntly, "More in some ways, less in others." Shrug. "Gotta learn ta manage yerself, yer time better without weyrling enforced rules. Some Wings drill hard, others sweep ride more...an' one even Craft specializes." Beat. "Others put on a pretty face." Snert. While Ilicaeth starts eating, his rider grunts, "Yer on yer own recognizance, but'cha answer directly ta yer Wingleader, the Weyrleader, ultimately." It's the second title she utters that makes a faint sneer appear on the woman's lips for a moment. "Yeah, I heard about that new crafter wing," Rat says with a grunt. "I know I won't be tapped in that one, at least." He falls silent to the rest, the weyrling of few words this night, it seems. However, he's watching Alida as she speaks, and something he observes draws a slight smirk from him as he asks, "Don't put much stock in the Weyrleader, is that it? What did he do to you?" There's a shrug from Alida to Rat's words of the crafter Wing, the woman looking as if she's mostly neutral about the whole idea, until he speaks of K'del. Appearing as bland as any bored person might, the bluie simply comments, "His dragon catches seniors. He's been runnin' the show fer decades." Shrug. Aside, "Whadda' *you* think uv' yer Weyrleader?" "Not a reason to hate the lucky bastard," Rat says, still amused. "Unless you're wanting to take his place?" As for he himself, He has a quick shrug and a headshake for her as he looks back at the pens and answers, "I can't hate a man for being lucky. I don't personally have anything against him." That's all he seems to want to say on the man, the weyrling stepping away as a bronze shadow finally detaches himself from the herd. "Nope..." Alida once again notes laconically, the woman then snerting roughly at wanting to be, "Weyrleader. Only thing ultimately worse is Senior Weyrwoman." As T'gar appears to be departing when that bronze dragon also moves off, she notes casually out towards him, "Everything, everyone ends." The plague proved that; not even Lord Holders were immune. "Good thing neither of us has to worry about becoming weyrwomen," Rat says in open humor. "I don't think I would've made a good one." He nows moves to heads off since Asaroth looks to have left him behind, but it's Alida's last that pulls him up short. He looks back at her in the pause, seeming to consider what she says before he grunts once and after a moment, "I believe there are those out there that do defy the odds." Perhaps an odd choice of words, given neutrally, but it's all that he leaves her with as he goes. |
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